


in the summer you will think gay thoughts and sweat

by arcsec



Series: hq!! girls [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Atmospheric, F/F, Popsicles, Summer, Sweat, must writing have plot? is it not enough to be sweaty and gay?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24970477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcsec/pseuds/arcsec
Summary: Melted popsicle trickles down Saeko’s wrist, drawing her attention back to it once again. When she licks it off, open mouthed, Miwa sees blue.
Relationships: Kageyama Miwa & Kageyama Tobio, Kageyama Miwa/Tanaka Saeko
Series: hq!! girls [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1807402
Comments: 80
Kudos: 133





	in the summer you will think gay thoughts and sweat

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by miwasae art from [nana](https://twitter.com/bnanamiilk/status/1276586518023254016), [manu](https://twitter.com/stiirped/status/1276240508403187713), and [jellycryptid](https://twitter.com/jellycryptid/status/1275915366737285122)

The world is shimmering with heat and university in the fall seems an eternity away. 

Sweat beads on Miwa’s forehead and trickles down the nape of her neck and under her arms and behind her knees and under her breasts. Even up in a ponytail, bangs pinned back, strands of her hair are plastered to her skin. She’s wearing as little as she can and it’s still too much, but there’s not much to be done about it. 

The lights are off in the house, and Miwa is kneeling in front of the old floor fan even though it doesn’t do much more than blow warm air back at her with a cyclical rattling hum. Beside her, Tobio smears sunscreen on in preparation to go to the park.

Earlier that morning, both of them had woken to the sun, before the heat of the day had set in, and she’d given Tobio his summer haircut. He sat patient in the kitchen chair, spacing out to the soothing motion of Miwa running her fingers through his hair and the metallic snip of her scissors, soft tufts falling away onto the trash bag she’d used as a makeshift cutting cape. 

Miwa wonders if he’ll try to cut it himself when she’s away. Probably only when his bangs grow long enough start to fall into his eyes, because that would interfere with playing volleyball. 

—

When they arrive at the park, both squinting against the mid-morning sun, Tobio with his volleyball tucked beneath his arm, Miwa spots some boys she knows from her year and a few girls she doesn’t smoking off by the benches in the shade of the old trees. They’re the only other people there. 

She finds her eyes drawn to one of them—the blonde with short hair. She’s leaning against the tree, head thrown back in laughter at something one of the boys just said, rocking some cutoffs and a vintage t-shirt chopped off around her waist. Then girl wipes her eyes and turns Miwa’s way, making eye contact.

A year or two ago Miwa might have looked away, but by now she’s learned to drink down the gazes of other girls without shame. They don’t do much to water the desperate, yearning thing that’s taken root permanently inside her chest and twined its way between her ribs, but she’s not interested in pretending she isn’t interested any longer. 

“Miwa,” Tobio grabs her hand to get her attention. “You promised you’d practice with me!”

“And I will,” Miwa turns to look at him, movement sending her ponytail swishing into her arm, hair sticking to the sweaty skin there. “But only for an hour, Tobio. It’s too hot to stay outside.”

Tobio looks mutinous.

“We can get ice cream after.” Miwa adds. There’s no bribe in the world that could pull Tobio away from volleyball, but she knows _she’s_ going to want something cold after running around.

“Fine,” Tobio scowls. 

He knows she’s not going to budge. They are alike in their stubbornness. 

She ruffles his head, her hand coming away with hair clippings clinging to it. Tobio must be itchy too, but he hasn’t mentioned anything to her. He rarely voices his discomfort. Miwa worries about that, sometimes. 

She does her best, nevertheless. It’s in the haircuts, in teaching him how to file his nails, in welcoming him with open arms and gentle hands when he gets clingy because he’s sleepy or sick or cold. It’s in this—there’s no fucking _way_ she’d be playing volleyball outside right now for anyone she didn’t love. 

—

An hour later Miwa is soaked, sweat bleeding fully through her cotton tank top. It clings to her skin. She licks her lips and tastes salt, and licks them again to catch the chemical bitterness of the sunscreen mixed in. 

Drops of sweat cling to her eyelashes like tears, stinging the thin skin around her eyes. When she wipes at her face with her forearm it skates over the skin ineffectually, only successful in smearing her sunscreen around. 

Tobio is trying to fight her on the time—for the record, she knew this would happen because he does it _every_ time—but she had set a timer.

“C’mon Tobio, time’s up.” Miwa tells him for the second time. He’s still clutching the volleyball and looking at her beseechingly.

The sky is cloudless, a blue so deep she could drown in it. She can practically feel it blossoming into the ultraviolet outside of her vision. The sun is irreverent in its radiance. 

“Tobio,” Miwa takes a deep breath, shading her eyes with her hand, and tries a different angle. “Look. Part of being an athlete is taking care of your body—you have to learn to listen to it. When it’s this hot you can’t practice without water breaks. Let’s go get something to drink, at least.” 

That does the trick. He follows her with minimal pouting as she leads the way to the small convenience store a couple blocks away. The street is all but deserted, the air above it blurred. She can smell the tar melting at the uneven edges of the asphalt.

—

They enter the air conditioning to the jangling of a bell. Miwa breathes deeply in relief, taking in the scent of coffee and cheap pastries. To her surprise, the girl from the park is also there, hands tucked in her back pockets, examining the ice cream case. Miwa heads over her way while Tobio loiters just inside by the register. 

Up close, she looks a little younger than Miwa. Her hair is damaged from the bleaching, and it’s clipped back to display a row of piercings up one ear. Smudged black liner emphasizes the cat-like slant of her eyes. Miwa eyes the sliver of skin between her high-waisted shorts and cutoff tee.

She straightens back up and turns, preparing to leave, but does a double take when she catches Miwa staring at her.

“You want something?” She asks, tilting her head, tone challenging. 

“Yeah,” Miwa tells her evenly, fighting the inappropriate urge to laugh that’s bubbling up inside her. “A popsicle.” 

“Oh,” she blushes slightly, scooting over so Miwa can get at the case. Her cheeks grow redder as Miwa moves closer. _Interesting_. 

“Were you going to get something?”

“What?” She startles, not expecting Miwa to address her.

Miwa motions at the case. 

“Don’t have money,” she tells Miwa, shrugging. 

“I’ll get it for you,” Miwa offers impulsively. “If you tell me your name.”

The girl is still looking at Miwa, eyes wide. Miwa catches them drop low for a second before darting back up to meet hers.

“Tanaka Saeko,” the girl declares.

“Kageyama Miwa. Nice to meet you, Saeko.” Miwa greets her, then heaves over the top of the freezer case, picking out a gogurt for Tobio and a red popsicle for herself, so cold they burn. The ice pops are the cheapest item in the case. Saeko grabs a blue one, and Miwa idly notes the chipped black polish on her short nails. 

“I’m going to grab some water for my brother, then check out.” Miwa informs Saeko, who’s been standing there, uncertain, ice pop in hand. “I’ll meet you outside?”

Saeko nods jerkily, handing Miwa the ice pop, and heads toward the front.

—

They settle themselves on the bench under the green-and-white striped store awning. Saeko slurps her popsicle, every now and then glancing over at Miwa. When Miwa catches her doing this she gives her a slow, sticky smile. 

Saeko seems torn between holding her ground and looking away, flustered. Miwa gets the best of both worlds: Saeko continues to look at her defiantly, popsicle momentarily forgotten in her hand, but also begins to flush. 

Melted popsicle trickles down Saeko’s wrist, drawing her attention back to it once again. When she licks it off, open mouthed, Miwa sees blue. 

She wants to taste that popsicle stained tongue. There’s a sultry heat pooling in her that has nothing to do with the weather. Miwa bites her lower lip hard, focusing on the pain to center herself, and then delicately removes the last sliver of popsicle from the wooden stick with her teeth. 

The wood of the stick is stained where the popsicle had been, and she can’t see herself but she’s sure her mouth is dyed red as well. She holds the last bit of the popsicle under her tongue, intolerably cold against her slick gums.

It melts in seconds.

When Miwa glances over to check on Tobio, he looks like one of the summer white peaches she’d eaten last night from the basket on the dining table, cheeks ruddy and flushed. Fuck, she’s gotta get some more sunscreen on that kid. 

She looks back at Saeko but she’s still thinking about the peach. About the sticky-sweet mess of peach juice and flesh she’d licked off her mouth and her fingers. About the striking red-dark of the peach pit nestled in the pale flesh. About the way she’s sweating now and the way Saeko is looking at her, too, and how she’s burning up from the inside out. 

Miwa swallows. She bites down on the wooden stick until it starts to splinter between her teeth. It’s satisfying for a second but then she’s left picking shards of wood off of her tongue. 

Tobio has long finished his gogurt and drank all the water and is tossing the volleyball up in the air, bored. Miwa should bring him home and reapply his sunscreen, at least, before he gets even more burnt. Then he can go out and practice more if he likes in the yard, but Miwa is done for the day. She wipes at her brow with the side of her hand before more sweat can drip into her eyes.

“Ready to go, Tobio?”

“Been ready.” He gives her a _look_. Yeah, yeah. She knows. Miwa stands up, stretching, pulling down her tank where it’s bunched up damply around her waist. The bared skin on the back of her thighs throbs where the bench slats had dug into them, leaving an imprint.

“Have a good afternoon.” She tells Saeko, polite farewell falling out automatically, and could hit herself. It feels too distant, like she’s just closed a door on this moment. They are back to strangers.

“Shee ya.” Saeko slurs out her goodbye around the popsicle. And fuck, _fuck_. The only cold place in this world is the inside of Saeko’s mouth. Miwa wants to be there. 

She makes it twenty meters down the road before she slows, her thoughts increasingly clouded with regret. Why does this feel like such a missed opportunity. 

She almost pivots to run back, to ask Saeko to meet her in the park later that evening when the cicadas screaming their electric song and stars wheel their way up from the other side of the world. When the air outside cools to skin temperature and any breeze turns to a caress. In the inky blue hour that comes between golden hour and true darkness she would kiss Saeko’s blue, blue mouth. 

Miwa thinks Saeko would come, if she asked. 

“Hey!” 

Miwa whips around. 

Saeko has pulled the popsicle out of her mouth and waves what’s left of it, calling after Miwa, “I’ll get yours next time!”

Miwa smiles, suddenly giddy. The door is open. She’s going through. 

“It’s a date!” Miwa shouts back.


End file.
